


Settling

by SuperFandoms



Category: Doctor Who
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-28 21:36:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18764713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperFandoms/pseuds/SuperFandoms
Summary: Every time he regenerates, there's a new him.Someone new to figure out.





	Settling

The first time was easy.  
It was still him, just younger and with a new face. A bit more energy to put into everything, and no ability to play the 'old man' card. It wasn't hard.

The second time was rough.   
Being forced to regenerate wasn't plesant, nor did it help matters. This him was older again, but much more serious. He had Lethbridge Stewart, the Brigadeer, as well. Having a friend was nice, even a non-conpanion. He hated to see his friends leave...

The third time was bizzare.  
Much younger, yet again, and this time with the oddest sense of humor. The scarf was plesant, he would admit.

The fourth time was peaceful.  
The death was, anyways. The process of finding himself took a short while, assisted, as always, with terror and danger. What fun. Being that dry and cynical didn't truly help his outlook at all.

The fifth time...  
His lives were running together again. He was quite similar to his fourth itteration, perhaps a bit more serious, a bit less absentminded. He looked the spitting image of a former Galifreyan guard, though. A handsome lad.

The sixth time was stressful.   
Quite a good number of hims gone, and this one tight-wound. Worried, quietly and calmly panicking.

The seventh time was one he wanted to forget.  
Hearts beating, examined. Things, stolen. He wouldn't forget that, even if he wanted to. He wanted to desperately.

The eighth time was chaos.   
War, death. Blood and cauterized wounds, both messy and painful. Everything, everyone, rasping, dying, dead. Death filled the air, and he forgot.

The ninth time was a short break.  
He knew himself, confident in that. Confident in everything. And, from that confidence, pretend bravado. Joy at the lives not lost.

The tenth time was one he would remember.  
Finding himself took a good while, but he had time. He was cheerful, rather like his fourth version. There might be a pattern, there. 

The eleventh time - and the twelfth - were greatly like the last.  
He almost seemed to repeat here, being cheerful and silly and occasionally serious, when needed to be. Then, he repeated. Himself, the exact same person. Again. He hadn't known it was possible! Of course, now he was out of spares. No one left to be, just this hat-loving childish person.

He's never expected a new set.


End file.
